


Mama Bear

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Awesome Rowena MacLeod, Beating, Blood, Bruises, Caring Mama Bear Rowena MacLeod, Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Protective Rowena MacLeod, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Rowena To the Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 15:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18897379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: Rowena doesn't take kindly to people stealing and damaging her things.





	Mama Bear

Getting captured by a hunter who happened to be a merciless sadist that enjoyed his job a tad too much was such a _you_ thing to happen.

Things might not have turned out quite as bad if you'd kept your mouth shut. But your days of staying silent in the presence of bullies were over, so you unleashed your quite expansive vocabulary (some of which you'd borrowed from Rowena) at the hunter at full force.

He repaid you with a beating that almost made you regret it. Almost, for the last remnants of your strength clung to that sliver of defiance, to that streak that kept you going when everything was dark and miserable and you weren't sure if you would make it out alive.

It was worth it. Every slap, punch, and kick. All of it was worth it. You may be down, but you went there fighting. Verbally.

It was something.

You had no intention of letting him have the last word. And when he started asking about others like you — other witches — you were even more inclined to spit out every insult under the sun to make it clear your lips were sealed (well, figuratively). You wouldn't betray your kind.

You wouldn't betray Rowena.

"You know, it didn't have to come to this," the hunter said, his tall, mountain-like form towering over you curled up on the floor. His knuckles were raw, slick with blood — yours, only droplets of his mixed in from the scrapes he got as he mercilessly pounded on you. They didn't seem to bother him.

You, on the other hand, were very bothered. Pain was everywhere, in every part of your body, every nerve on fire, screaming, hysterical. Every breath you took was agony.

Even still, you kept it in. You couldn't stop the tears from falling, but sobs and screams were well contained, pushed to the back of your throat where they belonged. You'd screamed enough. You wouldn't give him any more of the satisfaction.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he added.

"B-bullshit," you rasped.

If he didn't want to hurt you, he wouldn't have bound you in iron. Wouldn't have beaten you, tortured you. Wouldn't have screamed abuse at you and threatened you with more violence, more pain, when you refused to tell him about other witches.

He was a sadist. He enjoyed hurting you. If you weren't already in pieces, you had no doubt he would've treated you to round two.

"All you had to do was tell me about the witches you know," the hunter said in a voice that was strangely, disturbingly friendly. As if it was the most normal thing in the world to rat innocent people out to a killer.

He could shove it.

Gathering the last remnants of your strength, you spat, "Fuck you."

You would rather die than betray your own kind. Than betray your friends. Rowena.

That was what was going to happen, wasn't it? You _would_ die. There was no deluding yourself that you would make it out of this alive. The bastard would kill you, and would no doubt make it painful, and…

And Rowena would be left alone.

Again.

Yet another person she loved and trusted abandoning her.

More tears sprung to your eyes. You didn't want to leave. You had so much to live for. So much love to give Rowena. With all threats to her life gone, she could finally live to the fullest — both of you could. No more hiding and frowning in suspicion at every shadow. No more fear.

You should have known it was too good to last. Things like that never did.

Life was a bitch.

 _I'm sorry,_ you thought. Sorry you wouldn't be able to make it home today. Sorry you wouldn't be there for that tropical vacation you'd planned. Sorry for breaking your promise that you would stay, that you would be with her till the end of days. So very, very sorry for everything.

You tried. Good god, you tried. Rowena would want you to fight back, and that was exactly what you did, to the best of your ability. You'd eventually lost, but you still tried.

She would be proud.

Your head was spinning, and with it your thoughts, a hurricane of words, jumbled, half coherent, swirling in your mind. A tornado that made you even dizzier, that made it harder to concentrate on the now, on the madman standing over you.

_Rowena._

It was the one constant you clung to. One word that still made sense.

_Rowena. Rowena. Rowena._

The love of your life. The most beautiful girl you'd ever laid eyes on.

Oh, how you loved her!

The hunter chuckled. "Good one, bitch." His booted foot slammed into your stomach, and you let out a dog-like whine as another burst of pain exploded within you. "I do mean it. You could've used that filthy little mouth to make it easier on you. Spare you some of the pain."

Right. As if it would have mattered.

You knew sadists. Knew how they operated, how they ticked. No amount of snitching would have gotten you out of torture. Causing pain was what they liked the most.

No way would he have passed up on that for a few names that, for all he knew, might have been fake.

This way, at the very least you would go with dignity.

"But oh well," he continued, voice nonchalant, as if he were speaking about the weather. "Suit yourself. I'll find your witch buddies on my own."

"Och, I highly doubt that," a familiar voice suddenly said, and your heart jumped in excitement.

The hunter turned, face twisted with fury, displeased at the interruption. "Who the hell are you?"

Rowena ignored him. "You don't strike me as the kind of bloke who goes out of his way to do his work."

"What would you know about me?" he snarled.

"Oh, I know plenty about you." Her face contorted with rage as she spat, "About your kind."

He snorted. "My kind?"

"Hunters. A nasty bunch, you are. Irritating wee pests, but, thankfully, quite easy to deal with."

"Oh, really?"

"Aye. Well, aside from when you play dirty. Jump from behind. Which is the way you do things, isn't it? You're too weak to face a monster head on."

It was exactly the way he'd captured you. From behind, clasped the iron handcuff around your wrist and, as you tried to pull free, entrapped the other.

Fucking coward!

"Who the fuck are you?!" the hunter snarled like a rabid dog.

Rowena smirked. "Rowena MacLeod."

He cocked up an eyebrows, intrigued. "The witch."

"Always happy to be recognized," she said with false humbleness.

"I've been wanting to hunt you ever since I first heard of you."

"A fan, are you?"

"Huge fan."

"I'm flattered," Rowena said. "But, you see, we have a wee problem. You took something that belongs to me."

She looked at you as she said that. Her face was a mask of stone, but you could see traces of anguish lingering on the surface. Her heart ached for you. All of her ached for you. But she couldn't show it. Not until the threat was dealt with.

The hunter grinned, amused. "I did?"

"You did. And I don't take lightly to thieves."

"I'm sure we can come to an agreement of some sorts."

"Och, we totally can!"

A grin spread over her face. It morphed into a smirk, then a sneer, and her eyes, a blank canvas, flashed with anger, with fury that sent anticipatory shivers through you.

You knew that look very well. The hunter was in trouble. And, if his flinch was anything to go by, he knew it. He regained his composure in a heartbeat, but he knew something very, very bad was going to happen and he pushed the realization to the side in favor of appearance.

An egoistic fool. Clenched fists and taut muscles could only do so much.

"You've made a terrible mistake, _boy,"_ Rowena said, emphasizing the word with mockery. A clear provocation, shameless, proud. Come and get me, it said. She bloody dared him. "You never should've laid your hands on her."

"Oh, really?" the hunter said, ever confident. Full to the brim of himself.

Rowena just stared at him for a moment, cold, detached emptiness back on her face.

Then she shouted out, _"Mors Lumine!"_ and the hunter was screaming and screaming and screaming as flames, orange and angry and very, very hot swallowed him whole, ate away at him bit by bit until, mere seconds later, he was nothing but a pile of dust beside you.

You tried to push yourself away, but your broken body screamed in protest and you were forced to remain as you were, mere inches away from what was left of the man who did this to you, who beat on you and tortured you for hours on end for his own sadistic pleasure.

You thought he would kill you.

He should have killed you.

You were weak. Every inch of you hurt, stung as if thousands of knives stabbed at you with every breath you took, every little move you made. You couldn't walk. Couldn't crawl. Could barely even talk.

You would've been better off dead.

A fresh batch of tears spilled down your face at the thought.

 _Stop it!_ you chastised yourself. You were safe. You were alive. You got to see Rowena again.

See her while on the floor, beaten up, weakened, disgusting. It must have been a pathetic sight.

You suddenly realized you didn't care. You didn't care about anything other than the fact that Rowena was here and everything hurt and, god, you wished it would stop. You wished everything would just stop.

"Rowena," you whined like a kicked puppy, voice so low it was almost a whisper.

She heard you. She heard you perfectly, and in a few clicks of heels she was beside you, on her knees, gently pushing stray strands of hair off your throbbing, bloodied face. "I'm here, love," she said softly. "I'm right here."

"It hurts," you whimpered.

"I know it does. I know." Something on her face shattered as she said it, no doubt following after her heart. She willed a smile to her mouth, one of those that would have fooled anyone who didn't know her as much as you did. "But you're going to be okay."

You believed her. She could've told you she'd captured a unicorn shooting rainbows out of its ass and you would've believed her. Every word that came out of her mouth, you clung to, desperate for hope, for relief from the pain. For safety you'd come to miss in the last few hours.

"Can-can we go home?" you asked.

"You don't even have to ask," Rowena said.

You gave her a smile, or a grimace that what was supposed to be a smile, before a weightless weakness took over and, like a flick of a switch, everything went dark.

* * *

When you woke up, you were naked. Your panties were still there (you checked with a quick glance), but everything else, including your bra and socks, was stripped away.

Usually, that sort of thing would have been grounds for panic, but upon opening your eyes you immediately recognized the soft, comfortable bed underneath you and the neatly painted walls surrounding you, and relaxed.

You were home. In your bedroom, safe and protected. Far, far away from the bastard that had tortured you.

The bastard was dead.

Yes, that was right. Rowena had killed him, burned him to dust. He was gone, most likely in hell. He would never lay his hands on you again.

Before you'd passed out, Rowena told you you could go home, and, from the looks of things, she'd made good on her word.

Wait.

Where _was_ Rowena?

Why wasn't she here?

A sudden ache pulled at your heart, a desire so strong it almost brought tears to your eyes. You needed her. Wanted her. Craved her.

You tried to shout her name, but what came out was a whisper as weak as your body.

Your — now that you thought of it — strangely not-as-aching body.

You looked down once again and were surprised to find bandaged wrapped around your arms. Dark bruises covered your torso and legs; sleeping, and doing things in general, would be a bitch for the next few days. Stifling a hiss, you brought a hand to your face. The swelling didn't appear to be as bad as you thought it would (but then, it wasn't like you could look yourself in the mirror). The bruises hurt to the touch, no doubt equal in color and intensity to the ones on your lower body. Something soft, a tad scratchy to the touch covered your left cheek. A gauze?

There wasn't a single drop of blood on you, from what you could see. The sheets you were lying on, pearly white, were clean, spotless.

Rowena had been busy.

Was that why she wasn't here? Could she have gone to the store to get more supplies?

But then, would she have left you home all alone in this condition?

Your thoughts were cut off by the soft sound of footsteps in the hallway. You sighed in relief at the same time as the door opened and Rowena, barefoot and dressed in plain clothes (or rather what could be considered plain for the likes of her) walked in. A mug of something steaming and fresh was in her hands.

As soon as she saw you were awake, she flashed you a bright smile that instantly made you feel a bit better. "Well, if it isn't my sleeping beauty! Welcome back."

You pulled on a small smile at the endearment. "I thought you left," you said weakly. "You weren't here and…"

And, for a small moment, you were scared.

Even if it was a five-minute shopping trip, you didn't want to be alone. You didn't want to be away from her.

"Nonsense," Rowena said, outraged at the prospect. "I was making you a potion." She laid the mug on the bedside table. It smelled like Christmas, pine and cinnamon and forest scents filling up your nostrils.

"You took my clothes."

"That I did. Threw them away."

"That was my favorite shirt," you found it in you to joke.

She chuckled. "Too bad."

"I'm naked."

"Almost," she said. "I left your pants on."

A small laugh escaped you. "The Scottish version."

"Hey, I could've stripped you bare," she teased.

Another laugh broke free. It hurt, but you let it out. After hours of torture, it felt good to laugh again.

"Thank you," you said. "For taking care of me."

Rowena blushed at the appreciation, but said, "Och, you never have to thank me for that." She sat down on the bed next to you and took hold of your hand. "I'd do anything for you."

You believed her.

She'd rescued you. Killed for you. Taken care of you. And she would keep doing so until you were well, just like she always did when you were in need.

Just like you did for her.

You squeezed her fingers, a wave of comfort flooding through you at the contact. It felt so good to touch her, to feel her skin on yours. "I love you."

"And I love you," she said, tone equal parts soft and firm. Full of conviction, of honesty that made you feel warm despite the slight shivers. You never tired of hearing her say it.

"Stay with me?" you asked in a small voice.

"I'm not going anywhere," Rowena told you. You knew she wasn't, but you needed to hear her say it. Needed the confirmation loud and clear. "Up for drinking the potion? It will help with the pain and speed up your healing."

You nodded. She brought the mug to your lips with one hand, her other one supporting your head as you drank. The potion tasted as it smelled, fresh and Christmas-y.

"Good girl," Rowena said once the mug was empty, a tinge of pride blooming in her voice.

"I'm gonna be okay, right?" you asked. "It-it was horrible and…" Tears welled up in your eyes as memories of today, of the pain and torment, flooded your brain.

"Yes, dearest. Of course you'll be okay." She squeezed your hand in emphasis, a promise. "You've nothing to be afraid of. That Neandertal is dead."

"I'm scared," you admitted. You'd had your bad luck — in fact, it seemed as though you were born with it — but you'd never been captured by a hunter before. It was bound to happen eventually, with you being a witch. You just never thought it would happen this way. This brutally.

You were always careful with your magic. Made sure to use it without being seen. Rarely, if ever, used it in public, amongst other people.

You thought that made it safe, made _you_ safe.

You were very, very wrong.

"Don't be," Rowena said, and you could tell it broke her heart to hear your admission. "This was an isolated incident. It will never happen again. I promise."

There was a conviction in her eyes that made you believe her.

You would never be tortured by a hunter — by anyone — again. She would make sure of it.

"If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, I will kill them," she said. "Nobody hurts my lass and gets away with it."

You had to smile. "Mama bear."

"That's right!" Rowena agreed with a smile of her own. "I will protect my wee cub at all costs."

Your heart swelled up with warmth, calming, comforting. You couldn't tell if it was from the potion, or her promises you, without a shred of doubt, knew were true.

Probably both.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by OswinTheStrange.


End file.
